


Dare

by MUSEquera



Category: Muse
Genre: Clothing Kink, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:25:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MUSEquera/pseuds/MUSEquera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bet. A pair of red fishnet tights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dare

"You wouldn't!" I say with just the right amount of smirk in my voice to push his buttons. His reply is immediate "Watch me!" I snigger to myself, but keep a straight face—it's like the tide coming in, really; he's so easy that sometimes I wonder why I bother.

With his rather endearing superior huff, he rips open the package with his teeth—subtleties such as tear-open strips are often wasted on him. Package satisfactorily mauled, he pulls the contents out, a bewildered expression on his face.  
  
Yeah, I figured as much.

"Come here, you idiot." I say, pulling him into my arms and taking the red mesh out of his hands before he makes a complete mess of it. He glares at me, "I'm not an idiot." I kiss the crooked monstrosity that passes for his nose, then his lips, "Yes you are. But you're my idiot, so that's ok."

Mollified, but not one to be distracted easily, he puts his hand out regally, "Nice try. Give over." I shake my head, "Nope. You'll tear them." He sighs in exasperation, "Well, how the fuck do you expect me to put them on, then?"

Ah, finally!

"I'll put them on for you." I say, turning him to face the bed, "Go. Sit." He gives me a suspicious look over his shoulder, but he does as he's told, and I go over to kneel at his feet, placing my hands on his thighs.

Mmmmmhhh.

I lick my lips at the sight of him. He looks luscious, eyes bright with excitement and breath hitched up. Slowly, very slowly, I slide my hands up his thighs, my thumbs skimming the seam of his groin, and he automatically slips forward a bit, falling back to rest on his elbows, his legs opening to give me access.

I draw the moment out, because I love the way his eyes roll back and his hips start rolling ever so slightly in anticipation. I smile a private smile; he is at his best when he's like this, primed and expectant, full of potential.

I skim my nose over the fly of his trousers, breathing him in and, with a moan, his elbows give way and he collapses on the bed. "Please." he gasps. He knows I can't resist when he begs.

I undo his belt and unzip him, and my eyes widen in surprise and appreciation: he's gone commando on me, and his cock, already hard, springs gratefully out of its binding. I haven't even touched him yet and he's already panting. God, I love this whorish side of him.

"Up!" I command, and he lifts his hips off the bed so I can pull his trousers off. Once I get them past his thighs he settles back down and I lift first one leg, then the other so I can get them all the way off, kissing the sweet spot on the inside of his knees as I free them from the fabric.

"Shirt off." comes next. The lazy bugger grouses about having to do it himself, but in the end it's a toss up which one of us wants him naked the most, and he does as he's told. Just as he's about to lie down again, I say, "Back up on your elbows, love, I want you to watch." and he complies without argument. He does like to watch.

I take a moment to look at him. All this years together and the sight of him naked and open still makes my head spin. I swallow. Hard. I want to bury my face between his legs and suck him dry, but there is the small matter of the dare. And dares are things we take very seriously.

I pick up one of his feet and, after kissing his toes, place it on my knee. Time to do the deed. I pick up the red fishnet stockings and carefully roll up one of the legs, slipping it over his foot and lovingly smoothing it over his calf up to his knee. I do the same with the other leg, and then I have to stop.

I am rock hard inside my jeans, and they are starting to feel painfully tight. The sight of his feet encased in the tights, and the way he's looking at me, is enough to make me want to come on the spot. I'm starting to suspect that the joke might be on me.

Giving myself a stern talking to, I go back to the task at hand. I bring the stockings over each of his knees, and his eyes close tight as I roll them up his magnificent pale, soft thighs.

Nearly there.

I reach for his hands and stand up, pulling him up with me and into my arms. I can't help myself, I kiss him, and he opens to me, arms winding around my neck, one leg hooking over my hip. My hand goes to his thigh, and I whimper at the sensation of the silk mesh over his skin.

I don't want to stop, but this game has to be played out to the end, so I let go of his leg and, gently disentangling myself from his arms, I move back so I can finish the job. Up the stockings roll over his narrow hips, over the smooth contour of his arse and up to his waist. I reach my hand inside the front and tuck him in neatly, both of us moaning as I touch him for the first time.

I should move away and leave him to it, but my hands seem to have a mind of their own, and they roam his stockinged skin, lingering over his cock, sliding the silk of the stockings over the silk of his skin, our panting loud in the impersonal hotel room. He is rolling his hips, trying to increase the friction, and that snaps me back to the present.

"Naughty." I growl into his ear, removing my hand, and he whimpers at the loss of contact. "No," I say sternly, "a deal is a deal." He looks at me with wounded eyes. I usually let him have his way when he looks at me like that, but not today.

I make my way to the couch and sprawl in the middle, arms spread along the back, and legs apart, looking at him expectantly, my raised eyebrow a challenge. "Fine!" he spits at me, squaring his shoulders.

My jaw hits my chest at the change that comes over him. In an eyeblink he goes from an incongruously half naked snitting child to a seductive vision of heaven. He makes his way towards me with a tigerish, sinuous walk, his beautiful hands caressing his stockinged hips and thighs, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe.

There is a wild look in his eyes that scares me a little as he bends at the waist to lean his hands on my shoulders before he straddles me. I look up at him open mouthed. He smiles this secretive, sultry smile and, with a wicked wriggle of his hips, sits down on me.

"Oh, fuck." I scream, my head banging painfully against the wall. The evil pixie giggles with insane glee and starts circling his hips, rubbing himself on my poor trapped cock with just the right amount of friction to drive me insane, but not enough to get me off. Yes, the joke is definitely on me, I think as I try to lift my hips to grind against him.

Nothing doing. He has me at a disadvantage here. And to make things worse, he's now leaning over, his nipple brushing my lips, "Go on, you know you want to." he drawls in that husky tone that makes shivers travel down my spine.

I know I'm done for. I might as well enjoy it. So I do what he wants me to do. I take his nipple into my mouth and suck and nibble at it the way he likes it. He moans his approval, and my reward is a picking up of the pace.

Oh, thank god!!

Tentatively, I bring my hands down to his hips, the texture of the stockings adding to the thrill of the mindblowing lapdance I'm getting. I pause for a moment, wondering whether he will allow this. He whispers, "Yes!" so I allow my hands to wander freely, down to his thighs and back again. They finally make their way around to caress his arse and stay there, feeling the muscles under his skin smoothly contracting and releasing as he moves against me.

I try. I really try, because we both have this compulsive competitive streak in us, and I badly want to win this one. But he knows exactly what he's doing, and there's no way in hell he's going to let me come without my begging.

I know I'm done for, so I do the only thing that I can do. I beg. And beg. I may even whimper a little. Finally he takes pity of me and, with a triumphant smile, finally gives me the contact that I need.

Now that he knows he's won, he drops the mask and, wrapping his arms around my neck, brings his lips to mine, kissing me with the kind of sweetness that always surprises me and never fails to make me love him even more.

His timing is masterful. We both come together, ripple after ripple of blinding pleasure, holding onto one another and screaming the other's name. He collapses against me, shaking in the aftermath of our orgasm, and I hold him to me as though he's made of spun glass.

After a long, blissfully long time, he stirs and looks up at me from under his eyelashes, always endearingly bashful after he lets his wild side come out to play. I smile at him so hard that my face is fit to crack in two.

I love this walking contradiction of a man. More than I'll ever be able to express with words. But I try anyway. I lift his chin up and kiss his gorgeous soft lips, saying "I love you." Over and over and over, until he giggles and, getting up, holds his hand out to me and says, "Take me to bed."

The next day I fulfill my side of the deal. A picture of me in red hot pants and those accursed stockings surfaces anonymously on Twitter and goes viral in less than two minutes.

 

 


End file.
